


Someday, The Dream Will End

by signalbeam



Category: Persona 4
Genre: Aftermath, Bad bad end, Community: badbadbathhouse, Death, Gen, Variations on a theme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-09
Updated: 2009-07-09
Packaged: 2017-10-18 15:26:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/190300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/signalbeam/pseuds/signalbeam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes the worst part about someone dying is what comes after. A collection of one-shots built around the theme of the aftermath of a teammate's death.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the badbadbathhouse prompt: _What's the aftermath of having one of them dying?_

Later, the only thing any of them would admit to remembering was the gun, still smoking in Adachi's hand.

No one dared to mention the spray of blood splattered on the wall, the pool of red soaking the back of her black uniform, the torn skirt, the _messiness_ of death, in fear of making themselves sick. They never flinched when it was an injury from a shadow. Those could be fixed. They were like badges of pride: the small, nearly invisible scar left along the hand, a bit of skin missing from the jaw, the crookedness of a little finger from a break that didn't heal as expected.

They had thought she'd be safe. Shadows didn't go outside their dungeons.

But Adachi could. And he did.

Yosuke had been the one to get to the bedroom first. He couldn't see well enough to see what was going on, just knew that it had been hell trying to find his way back to the entrance without a map, just knew that Rise was in trouble. Souji had been next, and the one to realize what had happened, and then he went _nuts_. Completely lost it. Didn't even bother summoning his Persona, just went straight for the head.

Teddie and Yukiko pushed their way to the body, and they worked, for a long time. Kanji was all pale and stricken, yelling at Teddie and Yukiko to work faster, why couldn't they work _faster_ \--

Then the two of them stopped trying. Kanji went even paler. Yosuke could barely process anything himself, nothing except for the need to toss the contents of his stomach onto the floor. He did just that, and Naoto was patting his back and asking if he was well enough to fight.

He said yes.

Good, Naoto said. We need all the manpower we can get.

Fighting Adachi was hell. Spells, blades, _anger_ , everywhere. He couldn't tell what he was hitting or where he was hitting; all he knew was that he wanted to make that motherfucker pay. You didn't attack people who couldn't fight back. You didn't murder people for fun.

The next thing he remembered was Chie pulling him off the body, and the blood on all of them. Souji was covered in the most. Most of it wasn't theirs. Yosuke looked at Adachi, and swallowed. He and Souji were the only one who looked. Everyone else had turned their heads away.

"We should bring her back home," Yosuke said after a moment.

"Leave the bodies," Souji said.

"But--"

" _Leave_ them," he repeated. There was blood, streaked on his face like a mask. He wiped something off his hands--it fell, wetly, onto the floor--and said, "We’re going home."

He couldn't say it, though. Everything was over. They couldn't look at each other in the eye, couldn't even muster a conversation longer than a few words. When Nanako and Dojima died within days of each other, Yosuke couldn't stand it anymore. He gathered everyone at Junes.

Let's review the facts, Naoto said calmly, as though they were still solving the mystery instead of being a coalition of murderers. We have defeated Adachi. The fog should have lifted by now, but the eccentric behavior of the people in this town continues, and the fog may stay indefinitely. What do you think, Yosuke-senpai?

What did he think? He thought that everything had gone wrong. He thought it wasn't meant to be like this. He thought that things shouldn't have happened like this. They had solved the mystery and brought the killer to justice--so why did it feel so bad?


	2. Chapter 2

The worst part-- _the absolute worst part_ \--wasn't carrying the body back. Kanji had carried 'bout half of it before, when Naoto went off and got a big-assed spike driven through her foot, thanks to the crazy Gears. They had limped all the way back up through Heaven searching for sempai or Yukiko or Teddie after the Medicine barely had any effect. He had tried picking her up, but Naoto ground his foot with one of those _heels_ and said, "Thank you, Kanji-kun, but I believe I still have a leg to stand on." No, the weight wasn't unfamiliar to him. He knew it well enough, the weight of her arm around his neck, the way to clutch her to not touch anywhere she didn't want to be. What was another half a person going to do, make his arms drop? Hell no.

Wasn't the strange, fuzzed out look in her eyes after the Hama spell hit, either, because he had forgotten, just momentarily, that they didn't have sempai or Yukiko or Teddie on their team that day. What Kanji did remember was that he blasted the shadows with one hell of a Zio, and had called everyone for an all-out attack. Noticed that Naoto wasn't with him and Yosuke, but didn't really think too hard about it. Had his victory pose done and all when he noticed Naoto on the floor.

Wasn't when Yosuke went all pale and said, "Shit. We didn't have enough homunculi." There had only been two left before that last Mahamaon. Kanji felt the homunculus burn up after the spell made its hit, but just assumed--well he had just assumed that Naoto's strengths would play its part.

Wasn't when he remembered that, shit, getting knocked out from an elemental spell--well, you'd have to be slapped around a bit, then you'd wake up with lightning spouting out of your ears and barely able to walk until someone healed you, but the Mudo and the Hama and the Almighty spells--well, those were a fucking killer.

Wasn't when the fan fell out of Yukiko-sempai's nerveless hand, either. Or when Souji and Yosuke pulled him away from the body before he broke it. Or when Teddie went all quiet and stopped healing. Or when Souji-sempai's face went from carefully blank to fucking, terrifyingly _still_.

No, the worst part was bringing the body back to the Shirogane house and watching Naoto's grandpa. All of 'em went, except for Teddie, who refused to leave the television. Yukiko was the only one crying--funny, that. Rise was doing a weird solemn face, all cracked up but not broken yet, and Chie was too busy comforting Yukiko to really spend much time on the waterworks.

Souji-sempai was the first one to talk. "I'm sorry," he said. And then after that he couldn't say anything else and let Yosuke do the rest of the talking. Explained the TV world and Naoto's theories and everything they knew and how damned sorry they all were, how sorry they were, how--how sad they all were--Rise began crying at that point, and then Kanji snapped at her and she cried even more and he felt like shit, because, hell, Yukiko-sempai was crying, too, but in that subdued, lady-like way of hers, with a handkercheif and everything instead of wailing like a babe.

Naoto's grandpa was quiet for a long time. Didn't say nothing, all through Yosuke-sempai's explanation. When Yosuke stopped talking, he stood up, went over to Naoto, and touched her, all gentle-like. And then he bowed, on his knees, and dropped his hat to his chest and sobbed.

Everyone left after that, except for Kanji. Only thing he could say was that he was sorry, he was real sorry, he--it was all his fault, he should've said run, but he had to have that last fight--

"Please," said Naoto's grandfather, his voice coarse and stuffed up. "Leave."

So he did. And when the funeral happened, well, then Kanji was standing there in the fog in a suit and he felt like a damn monkey but the ashes were in the wind and all he wanted to do was to wake up, to wake up and never dream again. And when he turned on his phone there was a message from Chie-sempai, saying that they had rescued Nanako and were running around looking for Teddie. He busted up a couple of punks in the street and when the police came, he beat them up real good, too. Then he went home and slept for a long time.


	3. Chapter 3

"Tatsumi-san." Naoto said. "I--please..." She held out a letter to Tatsumi, her hand shaking, head bowed. Her tie wasn't done evenly. She hadn't slept in two days. She knew this would happen, the wordlessness, the inability to say something--that was why she had brought the letter, but her hands were sweating and the ink would begin to smear--

"My," said Tatsumi. She stepped in, close, and said, "Sit down."

Naoto did so, a bit too easily. Like her muscles had been cut loose.

"You're Kanji-chan's friend. Naoto, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"My," Tatsumi repeated, her voice soft and quiet and almost marveling. She took Naoto's hand in hers, and her hands were worn and dry. There were lines at her eyes and mouth. Her skin looked paper-thin, and just as fragile. "I was wondering when you would come. All of Kanji-chan's other friends were telling me that you'd come afterwards, and--I wanted to tell you how glad I am that you were his friend."

"Ma'am."

"Oh, don't worry about me," she said. "After a while, one gets used to things like this." She gestured, blandly, at the shop. "The ceremony, the mourning. The... quietness."

Naoto felt words quivering, up against her throat, but all that came out was a gutteral, shaking sigh. Tatsumi stroked Naoto's hands kindly, and said, "I always liked it when Kanji-chan brought friends home."


	4. Chapter 4

Yukiko wanted to bring the body back, but no one would let her.

Everything felt like a dream to her: the fog, the television, the ghastly, red world of Magatsu Inaba. She was vaguely aware of everything: Adachi's horrible laughter, Souji's hand on her shoulder, the awkward distance of the first years as they went deeper, deeper into the town that was not theirs, but just as real as anything else.

Then she was alone with the body, and everyone else was standing behind the tape. She must have floated here, borne upon Amaterasu's metal wings. She tried to hold Chie's hands, but kept dropping it. A dead body doesn't grip back, she thought numbly. Everything felt so distant and far away. Even the weight of Chie's hand in hers hardly seemed there. There were bits and pieces of flesh that had begun to fade into the shadow of the TV world, as though the world had been taking little bites of the body, piece-by-piece.

" _Samarecarm_ ," she muttered under her breath, flicking her wrist as though she was carrying her fan. But that wasn't going to do anything, was it? She ran her hand through Chie's hair, laughing a bit when it got caught in a tangle. "Chie," she said. "Chie. I can always talk to you, can't I?"

There was no answer. She was seized by a horrible desire to say something Chie would have said, to answer herself. But this was her punishment: her punishment for allowing herself to be confused, to be the one who had sent that Agidyne Chie's way. She hadn't known, she hadn't seen, but she _should have_.

"I went to your house today," she said. "And told your parents that I hadn't seen you since Saturday. They're putting a missing person notice up right now. I was helping them put up the posters and--and remember... remember that one time when we lost Chosokabe--I keep waiting for you to tell me that his name is Muku, not Chosokabe--and we went around town looking for him, making all those posters, and he was locked in your closet all that time? I--I called you last night, and got your voicemail. I must've left so many messages. Your parents are going to be angry when they see phone bill.

"And your parents--they're really lovely people. That one time, when your father invited all those people in and had them stay at the Inn. My mother always wanted me to thank him for her, for all the business, but I kept forgetting to and I don't know if I can face them, Chie, not after what I did. You always said you would protect me, you said—you said we would be together, you _said_ we would. We were supposed to go to Aiya's and order that rainy day special, once we had no more rainy days to worry about--Chie, you said that you really wanted one, right? I'll go get one for you, the next time I stop by. Chie... Chie, I don't know what to do. My parents won't let me work at the inn, so I've been in my room waiting for you to call me, like you always do. I still have your old jacket, the one you left in my room at the last sleepover. I keep thinking you're going to be in the kitchen getting food from one of the cooks. When I walk Chosokabe, I keep thinking you're next to me. Chie, I don't know what I'm going to do. I want to do everything with you again, and I can't, I can't..."

 

\---

 

When the sobbing started, Rise looked to Souji and said, "Senpai, shouldn't we go in there?" Souji was playing with his wristband, an absent look in his eyes. Rise nudged him and said, "Senpai?" He reached out for her wrist, and then pulled her into a hug. She rocked him, back and forth, until he let go.

"Ever since she died, I keep thinking about what I'd do," he said into her ear.

"I won't."

"Not now."

"All right, senpai." Leaning into him, she said, "I think it's time to go."

He hugged her, tighter than before. Yukiko was still crying in the adjacent room. Listening to her, Rise held on to Souji tighter, and was glad that she still could.


	5. Chapter 5

Chie woke up that morning before the sun was up and trained. The morning routine felt a bit empty--she needed a little push, she decided, a bit of competition. She should have called Souji to ask if he wanted a morning workout, but that would've been weird, would've been strange.

Before--before Yukiko had died, she could say it now. Before Yukiko died, she'd be using this time to run over to Yukiko's house. Chie still flinched when she thought about it, but it was okay. Really, it was. It had been weeks. She totally got that Yukiko was dead, wouldn't be coming back, ever again. She totally got that jogging to the Amagi Inn in the morning was a dumb thing to do, because really, she knew that Yukiko wouldn't be coming back. Sometimes she'd run into Yukiko's mother alone, and she could tell that they were both trying to talk around that they both knew Chie would get old, grow up, keep living without Yukiko.

And that was totally fine. Life went on. Chie got that. That was why she was training, to become stronger, to make herself strong.

She was at school before she knew it, one of the first ones in the class. Homework. Yeah, she had done all her homework. Kind of half-baked, but she had been tired the night before, couldn't think too well. The classroom filled up, and Chie felt the haze lift a bit. Then class started, just like it always did. Right at the same time, with the same people. Of course, the seat in front of her was empty, but of course she knew that it'd be, because--

Oh, god. She was... Just what she needed, to become a total basketcase. Souji handed her a handkerchief, but it didn't do much good. The tears were coming faster and faster, and the next thing she knew the class was awkward and quiet and Ms. Sofue was taking her by the shoulders and leading her out to the hall.

I'm sorry, Chie said, I can't stop it, it just happens.

Oh, of course, Ms. Sofue said. At least it was Ms. Sofue instead of Ms. Kashiwagi. Ms. Sofue was talking about something, and the name Yukiko came out Chie wound up getting teary all over again, just when she could make out the details of Ms. Sofue's headdress.

She had to pull herself together. Crying all the time wouldn't get her anywhere. She went back into the classroom a bit embarrassed, but if anyone wanted to pick a fight with her, well, she'd beat them up. It wasn't the right use of kung-fu. The right use of it was... she didn't know. She knew why she had taken it up: to protect people. She always got a kick out of being a person people could rely on, being...

There she went again, with the tears. She needed to focus on the details of how crazy Romans were, but every time she looked up she kept seeing the empty seat in front of her. It was okay, because she saw that seat everyday. Normally, the seat wasn't empty--she needed to think of something else.

Protecting people. Right. She couldn't afford to slack off now, not when there was still a case to solve. It was the reason why she trained now. Before it was because Yukiko thought it was cool, and because she wanted to protect Yukiko. To be someone, a reliable person who didn't--a reliable person. A strong person. That was what she was supposed to become.

The seat in front of her was empty. Yukiko would one day be a childhood friend who died in a tragic accident--what excuse did they come up with, she couldn't remember, something about--it had been so stupid, she should've known better than to let Yosuke think of it. She'd grow old and get used to living life without Yukiko, and she'd get to the bottom of this mystery and Yukiko would still be gone.

She spent her lunch with Souji, blabbing about how she knew she had been crying on him for ages now--she couldn't believe how dumb she sounded, still getting all teary over the same old thing over and over again, geeze, how lame was that? The day had started off okay, but then--well, now look at her, how lame was that, she couldn't believe how much she was crying, by now she ought to have dried up, god, by now she could've filled up an entire reservoir.

The fried chicken lunch he made was too salty.


	6. Chapter 6

The crowd thinned out pretty quickly after the funeral was done and gone. Inaba wasn't a big town, so just about everyone went because they had to, but not many people stuck around afterwards. It'd figure that town politics would screw Yosuke over, even in the afterlife. Daisuke, Kou, and Souji kept the Hanamuras company, speaking in awkward, fitful spurts of conversation that withered in seconds.

It was too cold for a funeral. Souji couldn't see how it was possible for it to be this cold when he was wearing a suit and overcoat over that, but he was cold. The wind cut through everything and the only thing he could manage was, "He went looking for Teddie" and "I meant to stop him. I didn't think he'd actually--" go into the TV alone, he wanted to say, but couldn't. Because Yosuke had broken their promise to never go into the TV alone. Because Yosuke was supposed to talk to him.

After a while, Kou told Souji, point-blank, that he was making things worse, and pointed him over to where the rest of the team was, just outside the cemetary grounds. Kanji was saying something, but after a while Naoto said something to him that made him shut up, and they went through the shopping district in silence. Souji kept trying to make small talk, but he couldn't work the energy to say anything, couldn't think of anything to say.

All the words came out well enough, though, when they passed a pair of girls. The conversation became still when the six ('only six,' a part of him murmured sadly) of them approached. It was those Junes girls. He took a breath to steady himself. No. Even they had the decency to wait a few weeks.

"What the hell are you punks talking about?" Kanji growled. "Huh?"

"Nothing," said one of the girls.

"Yeah? Because it looks to me like you're stirring shit."

"I can't believe you," Rise said. "He's just been buried, and you're already--"

"Well, so what? He was totally useless. He couldn't do anything right and--"

"Shut. Up."

The girl stopped talking. The other one, though, said, "What did you say?"

"He said to shut up." Chie stepped forward, looking as though she'd like to break a person or two. "And if you don't, then we'll make you. Never say anything about Yosuke again, because if we hear anything from you, then we'll come for you."

There was a soft click. Everyone turned to look at Naoto, who was checking her holdster.

"I apologize," she said. "I was merely checking to see how many bullets I'd need to silence two overly-garrulous gossipers."

The two girls wisely decided to leave. A bit belatedly, Naoto said, "It was empty."

"Thank you, Naoto-kun," Yukiko said, a hint of a smile on her face. "I was about to hit one of them."

"Who gives a shit about assholes like that?" Kanji growled. "Types like them not worth hitting."

"Or shooting," Rise added. "Right, senpai?"

"I hate those people," Chie said. "I mean, what do they get off of..." She wiped at her eyes with her sleeve. "Haha... I can't stop crying. I just can't believe..."

Yukiko handed Chie a spare handkerchief. Spare, because she was dabbing at her own eyes, too. The awkward silence fell again--probably because things were always confusing, when people began to cry. He put a comforting arm around Rise, and said something that must had helped, because after a while the six of them split up and went their separate ways home.

The house was empty. Dojima was still at the hospital. Nanako was on her deathbed. He looked into the television, and wondered if he could call Yosuke back if he put his head in there and yelled loudly enough. He was tired. The house was too cold, too empty, and too alone. He went to the Samegawa, fished until dawn, and caught nothing.


	7. Chapter 7

Sometimes Souji called his teammates in the middle of the night not for a favor, but to hear their voices.

I had a bad dream last night, he'd say, but when they asked the details, he could never get them out.

Sometimes the dreams felt too real, too true. Like he knew that there were times when the dreams could've been real, when a close call skirted too close to the edge of happening, when the people he loved were only alive because of dumb luck.

We're still here, his friends would say over the phone, sometimes with a little spark of laughter, sometimes with a bit of soothing calm in it, sometimes with a concerned warmth. Sometimes with an equally shaken, Yeah, man, I know how you feel. We're still here.

Talk to me, he'd say. And sometimes he'd hear stories about the past exploits of the Shirogane family, the grueling prep Rise was doing for her summer debut, stories about princesses and princes, a long, drawn-out rant about work and managing Junes, and the latest difficulties of making an alligator without green cloth.

Those nights he dreamt easy.

 

 _end._


End file.
